Christina Oliver

Category Archives: Love

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On Christmas, my Son was looking at all the gifts he had received. He pulled out one of the books we had gotten for him. Looked through it and then handed it to me and said, ‘Mommy I think my friend would like this, she needs it more than me. She loves Vampires.’ (It was a Vampireology Book)

It just touched me. He gets a concept that most adults fail to learn. The gift of giving. He couldn’t wait to give his friend this gift. I saw pure joy on his face when he was able to deliver that gift to his friend.

To see your soul walking outside of your body, is a most unusual thing. There he is with a smile on his face, ready to greet the day no matter what life brings his way. In seconds that all can change. It can happen so fast.

One minute he was talking. The next minute he started coughing and was blue and could not speak. He began motioning to his vocal cord trying to talk. No sound came out. During this time I tried not to show my fear, rubbing his back as I did so many times when he was a baby.

I literally saw my life flash before my eyes. My soul as well as my Husbands soul, walking outside of our bodies wrapped in this package.

I now know what it means for ‘life to flash before your eyes,’ now.

All these memories and moments come into your mind, like a movie playing.

The first time he smiled. His first word. The first time he walked. The first time he crawled. His first Birthday. First Christmas. The first time he found music. The first time he cried, because he understood deaths finality. His first day of school. The first friend he made. All the times I held him in my arms, when he needed reassurance. Or more simply, all the times I held him in my arms because I loved him.

That little chubby face looking up at me when I brought him home from the hospital. The time he smiled at me with his little milky grin when nursing. It was cute enough to make you cry. Just because you were so happy to be in this little angels presence.

This soul. My Son. One part me, one part my husband. The rest of his soul, bits and pieces of other family members scattered thought him. He lives in us and we in him. That is the beauty of life. It goes on.

Its why this little boy means so much to me. He is my soul, staring back at me and looking through me. He knows me better than anyone in this world.

He used to kick me wildly from the inside when I played the violin. He got hiccups whenever I sang to him. He knew how I felt before he was born. He was kicking my ribs, when my Husband and I said our vows. I know he knew how nervous I was. I like to think that he was just as nervous.

One day he heard Ave Maria on the T.V. He looked at me with those big blue, all knowing eyes and said, ‘Mommy they played the song at your wedding.’ I was shocked. But then of course he recognized all the songs I sang to him when he was a baby in my belly.

My child is still a very observant and caring child. Always thinking of other people before himself.

He is my own soul walking outside of my body. It is the most beautiful thing to witness, and yet, the most painful. That is what it means to be a parent.

I saw you yesterday when I took my son to the bathroom. You asked me alot of questions, Like if he was a boy, and if he needed help going to the bathroom, and why?

I gladly answered all your questions, and your caretaker seemed embarrassed. They told you to stop asking so many questions.

I know you are younger than your years, and that should not be looked at as a burden. Having a handicap can make you see the world in a different light. In a world so dark, you can see the light perhaps better than all of us.

I saw you at the checkout again, and I answered your questions, while the cashier ignored you, other people stared, and your caretaker told you to shut up.

You cried, and you said, I’m sorry, over and over again, but you did nothing wrong. My heart broke for you, it is never a crime to be curious. If I could, I would wrap you in my arms and tell you are beautiful, because that is what I think.

Stay young, ask questions when you don’t understand the world around you. Let your light shine.

In a world so cruel and dark, we all need to practice kindness, and a whole lot more love.

So please if you see someone that has special needs, show them love and kindness, because this world has already been cruel enough.

Somewhere in our lives we forget to truly live. I think that begins when you start going to school. These politicians and board members who sit behind desks all day, working for corporations dictate to teachers how children should be taught. “Common Core” teaches you that this is the way you have to learn. What those people sitting behind the desk don’t understand is everyone learns differently.

It is in the classroom that creativity is stopped. They kill your dreams. They kill your dreams and creativity because they do not want you to think for yourself. A large group of people thinking for themselves is dangerous. For they have the ability to change the world.

Be like a child who has not had their soul crushed. Be fearless. Have faith, and know that you are worthy. Follow your dreams. Live dangerously. Love like you have never loved before. It is in this way you will be able to change the world. It is never to late to start living the life you always have dreamed of having.

Last night my Mother-in-law, Father-in-law, My Husband and I, as well as our son, went to see the Christmas light show in Cambridge Ohio, at the court.

Our son giggled with glee and pointed to the lights as he kicked his legs and bobbed his head. “Look Dat!” He said and pointed every time someone passed us on the sidewalk.

Tears began streaming down his face. It could have been just because he was cold however, he was dressed warmly. I began to wonder if he felt the same way I did two years previously when he was just a seed my tummy.

My boyfriend and I were sitting there in church at the Christmas mass and silent night was being sung. I started to cry as I thought about my Christmas miracle stirring inside of me. I finally got it! The Christmas story is everyone’s story.

I looked at my boyfriend. I felt what I believed was the first flutter of life moving inside of me. I looked at him and said, “I know It’s a boy and we will call him Noah.” I was pregnant and unmarried at the time. People judged me because of this. They didn’t know my boyfriend and I, who later became my Husband. Personally I didn’t care. This was our Christmas miracle

As Noah cried, the memories came back. I remembered that night in church. I cried because our Child was a promise. The promise of a Christmas miracle. Two Christmas before that, we were trying to grapple with the news that I would never have a child. Yet here he is. He must have felt what I felt. Joy and beauty that he was a miracle. My son changed our lives.

I felt what Mary must have felt all those years ago. Happiness that God had blessed her with a beautiful baby boy. She also felt sadness because of those that judged her, because she was an unwed mother.

Noah understands this is the season of miracles. It was also this season of miracles that brought my husband and I together. It was at a Christmas time we
really connected. It was because of Christmas our son is here today.

The Christmas story is everyone’s story. With great pain is great joy. Without pain, there would be no hope. Happiness would cease to exist.

This is the season of miracles. Yours is right around the corner. Never give up hope.

We did not get approved for the car loan. However, every cloud has a silver lining. My parents, passing on the great legacy my Grandfather bestowed upon them, decided to help us out. My Mother applied for the loan for the new vehicle, since we could have not afforded another car payment anyways, had we been approved for the loan. She gave us her car. It belonged to her father. It was a bittersweet moment. In may ways, my Grandfather still lives on. He lives through my Mother.

My Grandpa would have done anything for anyone that he loved. It was just what he did. He gave love unconditionally and never asked for anything in return. My Mother and Father are very much the same way. My Mom handed the title over to Me. The last owners name, was my Grandfathers. Yes, this car belonged to my Grandfather. It was never really anyone’s car. We still called it my Grandfathers car after he died. It just didn’t feel right calling anything else. His glasses where in the glove box, right were he left them. The license plate that was his, still in the trunk for safe keeping. This is the car that continues to give. Just as my Grandfather did, and still does even though he is long gone. My Mother and I shared something special yesterday at the Auto title place. A memory of a man we all wish we could share our life and memories with.

We cried as we shared this memory. My Mother inherited the car from my Grandfather. My Mother gave the car to me. It was gifted not once, but twice. the car still keeps giving, just like my Grandfather did. As my parents now do. I thought about how that car my husband was driving, was probably not very safe. I count my blessing,s and can’t help but think my Grandfather had something to do with this. He is still looking down on all of us are all ok. I cant imagine what would have happened to Mike had he not been on a country road. I know my Grandfather is with my family. I have felt he always has been. He continues to live on and his legacy is one that has been passed to my parents and will be passed to us. This is the greatest gift of all. unconditional love, and memories and time spent with those you love that can never be paid back.

I celebrated my Birthday on July second. My Mom found some old pictures of me, blowing out candles on my birthday cake. The funny thing about being a Mother is, even the money that you get for your birthday, goes to your child. I was reminded of how many things my Mother went without, because she would rather my brother and I have those things. Here it is July second. It is my birthday. I have holes in my shoes, clothes that never fit right. The money I get for my Birthday goes to my Sons food and clothes. I even had some extra to get him a new book. Here I am dressed like a bag lady. Because I refuse to let my child have anything less than what I had growing up. Because yes, on my Birthday, my Son deserves the very best. All those years I never realized how much my Parents struggled. They did without too. I don’t want Noah to worry. Worry that maybe next month we will have to move because our rent went up again. That we can barely afford to live in this one bedroom apartment. So on my Birthday, I am thankful for my Mother and Father. For always giving me the best Birthday possible. I will do the same for my Son.

I found some old poetry I wrote. I wrote this while I was in an abusive relationship that lasted on and off for seven years. I wrote this shortly before I left the abuser and found my husband. I guess when you pray real hard and hope that Mr. Right is out there, you find him. For all those women that are in an abusive relationship. I once was you. Please let go. There is a better person waiting out there for you.

Love Birds Cry
I’m like a bird that crys for help,
with no one to save me.
I’m exotic.
I’m used and abused,
then throwen away when I am no longer useful anymore.
I’m a rare and beautiful sight to behold,
but not something that can be loved and adored.
I’m shot at,
day after day because some man wants me for his trophy case.
Then I fly away.
Someday.
Someday soon,
some beautiful love bird will catch me.
Someone that will love and adore me,
cherish and hold me.
Forever and always.
The men that hurt me,
will fade slowly,
untill they disappear.
Into the forest.
A dark forest filled with nothing but
pain, hurt, loneliness, that will last forever.
As I am living my beautiful dream.
With a love that will last an eternity.

Becoming a Father is a series of miraculous events. The father expectantly waits for the arrival of a child. Expectantly means watchfully waiting. Fathers are watchfully waiting from the very moment that baby is conceived. They are watching creation take place right before their eyes. Fathers are waiting for life to happen. Then it does. Out of love, life is born. This is one of the most important events in a mans life.

The Father becomes expectant again. He is watchfully waiting. He is watching his child grow, waiting for them to take their first step, waiting for their first birthday, graduate high school, and then college. Then they meet someone. Someone they want to spend the rest of their life with. They begin waiting for the marriage of their daughter.

My Father who I have always called Dad is singing a beautiful song “Borning Cry.” He sang it right before he came to walk me down the aisle. I hear him cry as he sings the last line “to see your life unfold.” I start to cry too. This was the same song he sang at my Baptism. The day I was born to the Father in heaven. The doors open and My Father and I walk into the sanctuary. He gives me to my Husband.

My Husband is expectantly waiting too. As I am standing at the Alter, my little son is kicking the inside of my stomach wildly. I am six moths pregnant now, He can probably feel how nervous I am. As we say our vows, my Husband starts to tear up. Then we are made Husband and wife. We are made a family.

At the reception my Father and I dance. I notice my father is starting to look older, he now has gray hair. I had never noticed it before. Probably because he is my Dad. When we are younger we think our Dads will always be here. So we never see they are ageing. Then I am scared. I don’t want to ever have to live without him. He is one of the first people who ever held me. One of the first people that loved me. I love him. I am thankful my Dad is still here. That he is able to share this special moment with me.

A few months later, My Husband and My Father are expectantly waiting. My Husband, the birth of His First Child. My Father, the birth of his First Grandchild. He was two weeks overdue, so I was induced. After 77 and 1/2 hours of labor, his head started to crown. My Husband started to shout excitedly “He has a full head of hair! Oh my God this is so cool! Push…!! Pushpushpush!” My Dad and My Father-In-Law were listening to all of this happen, downstairs from a cell phone that was on next to me on a bedside table. After a half hour of pushing He was born.

Expectantness begins again. This time it is my Husband. He is watchfully waiting for his son to grow up.

Life is a series of events where Fathers are Expectant. They watchfully wait, for the culmination of an event to happen. They reinvent themselves, and are born all over again.

I thank My Dad and My Husband for always being Expectant Fathers, and to all other Fathers that are Expectantly waiting.

My husband was getting ready to leave for work tonight. My son looks at him and pulls at his scrub top, and he begins to giggle and squeal. I don’t think he wants Daddy to leave. I don’t either.

I look at my Husband. This man who works many sixteen hour days. A man I love and have great respect and tenderness for. I wish he would be able to work less and spend more time with us. He is doing what he can to provide for his family. It is also a reminder of why I must write.
He encourages me, and reads everything I write. My Husband is my biggest fan. (I call him my editor, because he reads over my shoulder and makes me aware of what needs to be revised.) I hope someday I will be able to make enough money from one of my books. Enough so we can have more laughing, giggling, and more playtime as a family. I write out of love.